Take a Seat, Please.

The jury of our lives are every man woman and child we pass. The judge is the maker of this world we all are part of. I am thankful for this. Though the jury may find us guilty for many offences, our sentence will be handed down to us by a just and fair source. Unknown to the angry mob of our peers are the intentions and things lost in the translation. These trivial matters are of little significance.

The condemned man walks alone. Unrestricted by public opinion, he is essentially free. The scowls of the angry crowd are his applause for a voice of his own. Standing in a circle of his own truth he begins to preach his volatile propaganda. To him it is pure unedited truth. To the mob it is provocation for banishment.

I have been on this jury for many years. I have issued my verdict of disapproval as if I were handing out candy to peculiarly dressed children in the Autumn. The reflection of these verdicts is a blinding reality which comes full circle. It is my turn to take the witness stand. It is time to be judged.

Each time we take a seat in this throne of injustice, we struggle to find comfort. The absence of a fair trial awaits us all. Or does it? For as the carnival of evidence is presented in the case against us, we see each other. Look at me, smile, and charge me with what you will. Soon I will be banished, and again the chair will be available. Take seat.